


puppy love

by crashqueen



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Established Relationship, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Mark Lee (NCT) is Whipped, Musicals, Pet Names
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-04-23 06:09:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19145125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crashqueen/pseuds/crashqueen
Summary: Donghyuck doesn’t miss a beat. “I know, right? Honestly, being best friends and roommates before you start dating is the biggest life hack. It’s like we skipped all the awkward first date stuff and got to the good part. Right, Mark?”“Totally,” Mark agrees, even though his brain is suddenly throbbing like he’s having an existential crisis, or an aneurysm, or both. Definitely both. “Fabric softener is lit.”(In which Mark Lee just wants a romance straight from a cheesy romcom, and his boyfriend is not cooperating.)





	puppy love

Mark’s feet are cold, and he’s desperately in love with Donghyuck.

The cold isn’t new. Donghyuck has a terrible habit of hogging the blanket, yanking until he’s cocooned like a gently snoring ssambap—way too cute for Mark to have the heart to tug it back. So Mark lets his feet dangle haplessly in the night air, toes hardening to icicles.

The love isn’t new, either. Mark thinks—but never dares to say aloud—that he was born with it, that he spent his first thirteen years of life wandering hopelessly until his soul met Donghyuck’s and sighed in relief.

And now they’re boyfriends.

 _That’s_ new. Mark is still bewildered, still has shocked happiness bursting from him like cola fizz, leaking from the corners of his smile and staining his skin with sunshine.

“Morning, hyung,” Donghyuck mumbles, one eye barely cracked open.

“Morning, puppy,” Mark says, because he knows Donghyuck will roll his eyes at the pet name, but secretly enjoy it.

“Were you watching me sleep again?”

“Can’t help it. You’re so pretty.”

“ _Gross_.”

“Hey.” Donghyuck’s hair looks so enchanting fanned over the white sheets, Mark thinks, like a pool of syrup. He reaches out to tuck a strand of it behind his ear. “What do you wanna do today? No class, no rehearsal…”

“Dunno. Thought we’d just watch dramas or something. Oh, and the guys are coming over later; we’re having a Mario Kart tournament.”

“Really? That’s...cool.” Mark tries not to sound too disappointed, but he honestly thought they could go out for once. Between university and the musical, a day like this is a rare opportunity. He’d wanted to do something cheesy and romantic, like go to an art museum, or…

“We can make kimchi pancakes,” Donghyuck offers, eyelashes fluttering sweetly. “I went out and bought all the ingredients yesterday.”

And what can Mark do but smile? “Sounds amazing, puppy.”

 

☆

 

Mark doesn’t realize he has a problem until rehearsal on Monday evening.

Donghyuck is sprawled over one of the audience seats, leaning into the control booth at the back of the theater to talk to Mark, who’s lead sound technician this year. They’re in the middle of an intense discussion about the most cost-efficient size of fabric softener to buy when Mina pauses in untangling mic wires to scoff, “You’ve been dating for three weeks and you’re like an old married couple.”

Donghyuck doesn’t miss a beat. “I know, right? Honestly, being best friends and roommates before you start dating is the biggest life hack. It’s like we skipped all the awkward first date stuff and got to the good part. Right, Mark?”

“Totally,” Mark agrees, even though his brain is suddenly throbbing like he’s having an existential crisis, or an aneurysm, or both. Definitely both. “Fabric softener is lit.”

He tries to ignore the barbed look Mina gives him. “C’mere, Duckie,” she says, the corner of her mouth twitching in amusement. She loves watching Mark suffer. “Might as well get your mic fixed while you’re here.”

“Only I get to call him Duckie,” Mark protests.

Mina just laughs.

 

☆

 

This year’s show is Rodgers and Hammerstein’s _Cinderella_ , which means Mark was already having a hard enough time balancing the massive amount of fantasy sound effects with how absolutely, completely unbothered he is by the sight of Prince Donghyuck kissing Yerim-ella, because he’s a mature and supportive boyfriend. (Obviously.) Now to add to his heap of woes—

“I don’t think Donghyuck wants the same things I do.”

Yewon, the third and final member of the Control Booth Squad, blinks slowly. They’re fifteen minutes into rehearsal and Mark has been staring mournfully into space the entire time. “I just asked you what cue number the dress transformation is,” she says.

“Two days after we got together, he said something about how our relationship was so great, because we were basically doing all the same things we were before, except now with kissing. And whenever we watch dramas together he thinks the romantic parts are so lame, meanwhile I’m trying to subtly cry into my pillow because we’ve never been on a real _date_ , you know, we hang out in the apartment and order takeout and sometimes I just wish—”

“It’s seven,” Mina interrupts. “And you should go tell your boyfriend what a big sap you are, not your innocent booth buddies.”

“I don’t want to make him feel uncomfortable, or obligated to do things he doesn’t want to do. He’s made his stance on all that cheesy stuff clear, right? Wouldn’t it be a dick move to ask it of him?”

“But if _you’re_ not comfortable with the way things are in your relationship,” Yewon reasons, her voice clear and soothing as water, “that’s not right either. You’re not a dick for asking for things unless you pressure him, or don’t take no for an answer.”

Mark frowns. “That’s not...I’m not uncomfortable with the way things are. I love the way things are. I love everything, as long as it’s with him. I don’t want him to think that just being together isn’t enough for me when that couldn’t be further from the truth.”

“God,” Mina groans, “even the problems in your relationship are so sweet, they give me a toothache.”

“I know our relationship is different because we were friends for so long first, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. But I also wanna, I don’t know, go on a scenic drive at sunset and look out over the city and then I play a K.Will song on my car stereo and we get out and slow dance on the side of the street and...okaaay, CUT!”

(Which is Mark language for, _I just said something morbidly embarrassing_.)

“You can’t drive,” Mina says, unimpressed. “But seriously, even if he might judge you—and rightfully so—it can’t hurt to bring all this up to Duckie. You’re allowed to want things.”

“Only I get to call him Duckie,” Mark says reflexively. “And I can’t, because…”

Because he might think I’m lame. Because he might get scared. Because the love I have for him is so immense, I don’t know how to hold it without breaking it. Because everything is new when it used to be so familiar and it seems so fragile and I’m terrified. Because what if—

“SOUND TECHS!”

The student director’s voice pierces all the way from the stage to the back of the theater. Irene plants her clipboard on her hip with fire in her eyes.

“You missed the cue on the dress transformation!”

“Sorry, Irene!” Mina calls, and wraps a reassuring arm around Yewon, whose face has gone deathly pale. “Won’t happen again.”

Irene shoots them a look that clearly reads _it better not_ , then calls the scene from the top.

“I’m so sorry,” Yewon whispers, mortified. “I should have called it, you just told me what the cue number was and I didn’t—”

“It’s okay, Yewonnie,” Mark soothes, patting her hair gently. “It was my fault, really. I’ll buy you boba later to make up for it.”

He passes the rest of rehearsal in silence.

(Donghyuck tags along for boba. He holds Mark’s hand in his pocket, pouts and says, “Hyung, I forgot my wallet, can you pay?”, and orders a single drink with two straws, which makes the butterflies in Mark’s stomach flurry up his throat and flutter into the air. When Mark crumples a plastic wrapper nervously and asks if this is a date—because they’re out together and it should _count_ —Donghyuck just laughs and says, “You’re so weird, Mark Lee,” so Mark buries half his sorrow at the bottom of a cup of milk tea and the other half at the bottom of Donghyuck’s sugar-sweet lips. Mina and Yewon’s pitying gazes don’t leave him all night.)

 

☆

 

Mark tries dropping hints.

He proposes _The Notebook_ for one of their Saturday movie nights, but Donghyuck rejects it on the grounds that:

a) he’s already seen the movie with his older brother, and although he liked it well enough,

b) his friend Jaemin totally killed the mood by giving him a ten minute lecture about how the film perpetuates rape culture the next day.

They end up settling on _My Neighbor Totoro_.

He prints a calendar and magnets it to the fridge purely for the sake of circling Valentine’s Day in pink Sharpie. (It’s not for another ten months, but whatever.) He leaves advertisements for fancy restaurants strewn casually over the kitchen counter. He takes Donghyuck grocery shopping and makes a point of admiring the store’s flower section—then sneezes his brains out because he’s allergic to pollen.

Mark thinks his methods are sound. He can’t outright ask Donghyuck to change, so he just has to hope his boyfriend will eventually figure out that he’s dating a massive sap who loves Hollywood romances (although Mark did watch some very insightful video essays and realize Jaemin was totally right about _The Notebook_ ) and act accordingly.

Unfortunately, two weeks of _Operation Get My Boyfriend to Romance Me_ bear zero fruit. Donghyuck is as affectionate as ever, but seems to avoid anything else even vaguely romantic like the plague. If anything, they’re going out _less_ now that they’re together. Even in the deepest trenches of their six-year “we’re just friends” phase, they’d still had the occasional not-date to get bingsu or see a musical. Now Donghyuck is stubbornly home-bound during their limited free time.

“I think,” Mark tells Mina, surrounded by the gently wafting pastels of tulle and satin in the costume closet, “that romance is my boyfriend’s pollen.”

“I hate that we’ve reached a point in our friendship where I understand what you mean by that,” Mina sighs. “Also, for the thirty-thousandth time, just talk to him. Seriously.”

Mark frowns, rolling the brass button of a regal crimson coat beneath his fingers. The senior costume designer, Taeyong, is terrifyingly particular and probably coming any minute now to eat their heads off for touching his things, but the closet is like a safe haven from the teeming activity of the outside world. “Maybe you’re right,” he says slowly. He doesn’t voice his true fear, that maybe Donghyuck is embarrassed to be with him. To be seen with him. “It can’t hurt to ask if he wants to, like, get a couples’ massage.”

Mina quirks an eyebrow. “You want to lie next to each other, naked, while strangers touch you? Kinky, Mark Lee.”

“Well, when you put it like _that_ …”

As it turns out, however, Mark isn’t the first one to broach the subject. That night, as they sit side-by-side in bed finishing up some work before sleep—Donghyuck studying his script, Mark doing the reading for a digital media class—Donghyuck turns abruptly and says, “Hey, Mark?”

“Hm?” Mark hums, not looking up from the passage he’s highlighting.

“Do you ever wish things were…different? In our relationship?”

Mark’s heart leaps into his throat. Has Donghyuck finally pieced together all the bread crumbs his boyfriend’s been dropping? Is he actually taking initiative to make their relationship more romantic? He lifts his head from where it’s buried in his book, fully prepared to express everything he’s kept to himself all this time—

—then feels his conviction crumble when he sees Donghyuck’s face.

Donghyuck looks so fragile, like a damaged pane of glass—spiderweb cracks of hurt and worry fracturing his face. His features are thrown into sharp relief in the darkness of the bedroom, illuminated only by the bedside lamp: brows drawn together, lips pinched, eyes dark and shining. How could Mark want anything but him? How could he ever ask for more?

“No,” Mark says, punctuating the word with a kiss at the corner of Donghyuck’s plush, perfect mouth. Certainty trickles through his veins like honey. “I wouldn’t change a thing, sunshine.” He shuts his book, then pretends to pause, considering. “Except maybe it would be nice if you recycled the milk cartons instead of putting them back in the fridge empty.”

“Remember when you ate that bowl of dry cereal, though?” Donghyuck laughs. Mark rolls his eyes but laughs too.

The tension that’s been coiling in his chest unravels. Mark flicks off the lamp (because he knows Donghyuck was only staying up for him and doesn’t really want to look at his script anymore) and kisses his boyfriend goodnight.

He sleeps well. At this point, he’s so used to the freezing feet that it comforts him.

 

☆

 

On the first day of tech week, rehearsal starts four minutes late.

This is earth-shattering coming from Irene, a strict follower of the principle that early is on time, on time is late, and late is dead. People are getting restless, milling aimlessly around the theater with Irene nowhere in sight, and around minute three Mark finds himself eyeing his backpack, where his phone is turned off and stowed away like it always is during rehearsal. He’s toying with the idea of texting Donghyuck to ask what’s going on when Irene strides briskly from backstage and takes her seat.

“Ballroom sequence!” she calls, cool and unruffled, and just like that, the theater is a flurry of orchestrated chaos again. Spotlights aim, mics are turned on, actors scramble to their positions, set pieces are rolled out, and—

“Where’s Donghyuck?” Mark frowns. Donghyuck’s understudy, Renjun, is onstage in full Prince Topher regalia, even though it’s not supposed to be an understudy rehearsal today.

“Maybe he’s out sick today?” Yewon suggests.

“He can’t be sick. I just saw him, like, an hour ago before he went to get his makeup done. Is he—did something happen? Yewonnie, what happened?”

Mina comes to the rescue before Mark can interrogate a faintly terrified Yewon any further. “Relax,” she murmurs, unusually gentle, and gives Mark’s hand a comforting squeeze. “Irene isn’t freaking out and Renjun clearly knew ahead of time to get dressed as the prince, so there must be a reasonable explanation. Whatever happened can’t be anything awful if rehearsal is going on as normal, right?”

“Yeah, that—that makes sense,” Mark agrees, but the prickling ball of nerves in his stomach persists. He breaks his own rule and grabs his phone, surreptitiously checking whether Donghyuck’s texted him. Nothing. He breaks another rule and sends a text.

 

**lion heart [5:05 PM]**

babe why aren’t u at rehearsal

text me back when u can, ok?

i love you

 

It only takes four minutes (during which he checks his phone twenty-seven times) for Mark to get desperate enough to fire off another text.

 

**lion heart [5:09 PM]**

jaemin

where’s hyuck

 

**nananana batman [5:10 PM]**

you’re not supposed to have your phone during rehearsal!!!

 

**lion heart [5:10 PM]**

what are you using to respond to me then

 

**nananana batman [5:11 PM]**

…touche

ok don’t freak out but

 

Mark freaks out.

 

**nananana batman [5:11 PM]**

something happened

hyuck is fine tho i promise!!!!

if he isn’t already gone he should be waiting outside for his brother to pick him up

irene already talked to him, that’s why rehearsal started late

 

Mark is out the door before Mina can finish asking where he’s going. He flies down the stairs so quickly his heart gives a rollercoaster lurch, tumbling down from his chest to the soles of his frantic feet. People are staring, and he’s unspeakably grateful when Irene doesn’t say anything to stop him. He’s never defied her before. He doesn’t think he’d know how.

He finds Donghyuck seated on the steps outside the theater—backpack in his lap, cheeks cradled in his hands, legs bouncing anxiously. He doesn’t seem particularly surprised to see Mark. Just—disappointed? Exasperated?

His expression has never been so foreign before.

“Duckie, baby…” Mark falters, squirming a little under Donghyuck’s silent gaze. “You had a panic attack.”

Because Mark already knows at least that much. Recognizes the weary slump of Donghyuck’s shoulders, the defeated way he’s curled into himself.

“Yeah. I did.”

His voice is hoarse—he must have been hyperventilating pretty harshly—and barely audible over the dull hustle and bustle of campus life. Irritation simmers in Mark’s stomach, fanged and unwieldy. It feels inappropriate somehow, feels wildly obscene that they’re by the parking lot and the last snatches of sunlight are straining through the clouds and students are walking to evening classes or the dining hall, because it should be just _them_. Should just be Mark and Donghyuck without the outside world daring to interrupt.

Mark sits. He keeps a careful distance between them, unsure of what’s okay. “I was so worried about you. When rehearsal started late and Renjun walked out instead of you, I didn’t know—”

“I knew you’d freak out,” Donghyuck sighs. “I told them not to tell you.”

“Well, that backfired, because being kept in the dark just worried me more.”

It’s the wrong thing to say. Donghyuck’s expression sours in the second before he averts his gaze to the ground, obscuring it from view. “Taeil’s already on his way to get me.”

“Yeah, Jaemin told me.” Mark frowns. “I could have taken you home, you know.”

“You have rehearsal, dummy.”

“So I’ll skip.”

Donghyuck looks up with a snort, likely remembering when Mark had the flu, or got his wisdom teeth out, or was horrifically hungover the morning after he turned legal—all the times Donghyuck begged and begged him to skip rehearsal and stay home, to no avail. He doesn’t mention it, though, just gives a wry smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes and says, “I have an understudy and you don’t. Besides, I’m not going home. I was gonna get dinner with Taeil, if…that’s okay with you.”

“Oh.” Something ugly catches in Mark’s throat, and he struggles to swallow it down, to keep it from escaping through his mouth and choking the air around them. “Of course it’s okay with me. If you didn’t want to be around me, you could have just told me, I’m not going to—to _force_ you—”

“Hyung, it’s not like that. You know it’s not like that.”

The tips of Mark’s ears burn with shame. He hangs his head. “I know.” He’s never been unable to meet Donghyuck’s eye like this, never been anything short of desperate to look at him. “I’m sorry. You—you can spend the night at Taeil’s if you want.”

“No, I’ll be back home tonight.”

“Seriously, if you want to hang out with him, you don’t have to lie to me, you—”

“You think I’m _lying_ about wanting to come back home?” Someone whizzes by on a bike. In the distance, a campus police officer yells half-heartedly that this isn’t a bike trail. And Donghyuck is bewildered. “You’re being dumb. Why are you being so dumb?”

“Maybe,” Mark almost-whispers, fingernails digging into his palms, “I just feel like I have the right not to hear from Jaemin ten minutes after the fact when my boyfriend has a panic attack right before rehearsal and—”

“You don’t have the right! I don’t owe you anything!”

Their eyes finally meet fully, and they learn at once that neither of them actually looks angry. Just terrified, wide-eyed and faintly panting for no good reason. Taeil’s ancient mom-style minivan chooses this exact moment to pull up to the curb.

“That’s me.” Donghyuck gets mechanically to his feet, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. He’s maybe a meter away when Mark crumbles.

“Wait,” he blurts, still not moving from his seat on the steps. Donghyuck actually pauses to listen, thank God. “Puppy. Are you okay?”

Students walk obliviously through the insurmountable space between them. Donghyuck kicks at a crack in the concrete, still wearing his dance shoes. He must have already started dressing before what happened.

“I’m fine,” Donghyuck says tersely. He gets into the car without looking back.

 

**☆**

 

**lion heart [5:31 PM]**

hi honey

you don’t have to reply but

hyung loves you so much, okay?

I’m so sorry

 

**sunshine [9:48 PM]**

I’m sleeping over @ taeil’s place

 

☆

 

That night, Mark’s feet are too warm and one side of his bed is too cold.

The next morning, he eats breakfast alone and takes the train to campus alone—two things he hasn’t done since Donghyuck moved in last semester. He watches the blur of Seoul outside the train window, cranks the volume on his earbuds in an attempt to tune out the immensity of his fuck-up. Maybe he was just scared. Donghyuck has always sought him out after a panic attack, has never hidden anything from him. But of course he was right. That’s not something he owes to Mark.

The thought settles in his stomach heavy as a stone, seeping in bile. For the first time, Mark skips his classes, instead passing the hours before rehearsal stowed away in a piano practice room where nobody will question the sound of him sobbing.

When he runs out of tears, he tries actually practicing, but all the songs he knows how to play just remind him of Donghyuck. He’s staring blankly at the piano keys when the door clicks open.

Mark has to blink and rub his eyes once, twice, three times to make sure he’s not hallucinating.

“Taeyong called to say he went to practice and saw you crying,” Donghyuck says, plopping himself down on the piano bench next to Mark. How has it been less than a day since they last saw each other? Mark feels like a gaping wound in his side is stitching itself back together at the sight of him. It takes him a moment to realize Donghyuck is pressing something into his hand.

“What…” It’s an artificial sunflower. Paper petals and a plastic stem.

“I was going to give it to you at rehearsal,” Donghyuck explains. “It’s fake, so it won’t set off your allergies.” A beat, then: “Mark Lee, are you crying?”

“No,” Mark sniffles furiously, cradling the flower to his chest. “I just really missed you.”

“It’s only been a day.” Donghyuck lies down across the bench, his head pillowed in Mark’s lap. “But I missed you too.”

“I’m sorry, angel,” Mark murmurs, carding his fingers through Donghyuck’s hair. “You were upset and anxious and I was so unreasonable. I was just worried, but that’s not an excuse. I can’t believe I made it about myself like that.”

“I already know all that, dummy. It’s why I forgave you hours ago.” Donghyuck gives a slow grin. “But I’ll forgive you extra hard for a kiss.”

It’s a clumsy kiss—Mark twisting awkwardly to accommodate his boyfriend’s position in his lap, both of them laughing. The relief is overwhelming. “Mina would say we’re being gross,” Mark giggles.

“She would.” Donghyuck sits up, and for a moment those spiderweb cracks of insecurity flicker across his face again. “But—you don’t mind, do you, hyung? What other people think?”

“Of course not.” Mark frowns. He wants to ask why the question had occurred to Donghyuck in the first place, but finds himself yanked to his feet before he gets the chance.

“Let’s hit the dining hall before rehearsal,” Donghyuck suggests. “You probably cried out a lot of calories.”

“I didn’t cry _that_ much,” Mark mutters belligerently, but he’s all too happy to follow Donghyuck out the door of the music building.

To follow Donghyuck anywhere.

 

☆

 

 _Cinderella_ runs for two weekends. The theater is always packed, and local media outlets never fail to mention Donghyuck’s honey-smooth vocals as Prince Topher in their reviews. This is what Mark loves most: the sound of applause finally accompanying the music they’ve been performing for empty seats. The sleep they’ve lost over three grueling months of rehearsal paying off at last. He makes a point of staying after each show to greet audience members, chest swelling with pride as he explains that, yes, the lead actor really is just a freshman.

On closing night, Irene throws the entire cast and crew a party at her girlfriend’s house. It’s chaos, of course—a hundred theater kids packed into a tight space, chugging soju and belting _Les Misérables_ into karaoke microphones.

“I’m so proud of you both,” Mark shouts to his sound techs over the blaring showtunes, leaning earnestly over the kitchen island. “I mean, the adjustments on the levels between sung and spoken dialogue were fucking seamless. And you!” Yewon gives a startled yelp as Mark grabs her by the shoulders and shakes her. “I can’t believe this is your first show! You’re, like, an actual sound design goddess.”

“Is he drunk?” Yewon giggles.

“No.” Mina gives Mark’s hair a fond tousle. “He’s always like this at the wrap party. Though usually not until a bit later in the night.”

“I’m heading out early,” Mark explains apologetically. “If Donghyuck asks, just tell him I went home and that he can catch a ride with Taeyong or something, okay? It’s a _surprise_.”

“Mark Lee, if I’m helping you get laid—”

“Ew, no! Gross! I mean, not _gross_ , because Donghyuck isn’t gross. I’m sure it would be a magical experience, we just haven’t—”

“La la la la!” Mina screams, hands clamped firmly over her ears.

“I’ll tell him,” Yewon assures Mark. She’s heaven-sent, honestly.

It feels wrong to leave without kissing Donghyuck goodbye, but Mark knows he’ll blab if he sees his boyfriend face to face. He gives each of his booth buddies a parting hug, then slips undetected out the front door.

 

**sunshine [11:32 PM]**

markie~

I am crUSHIng karaoke rn!!

we;re doing seasons of love next where aRE YOu

I dare you to do the falsetto solo lmao

 

**sunshine [11:47 PM]**

yewon noona said u went home :0

are u okay

did u throw up? is this a repeat of new years???

 

**lion heart [11:49 PM]**

no I’m okay! just tired

sorry I missed it ): have fun babe

come home when you can, no rush!!

and stay hydrated!!!

 

But Donghyuck must have left the party right when he got Mark’s text, because he arrives home fifteen minutes later, bounding through the doorway just past midnight. How very Cinderella of him.

Mark sits in bed and listens to Donghyuck slam the door behind him and shout, “Markie!” Listens to him kick off his shoes and stow them neatly on the shoe shelf (unlike Mark, he’s good about remembering). Listens to the jingle of his keys being thrown on the counter by the door and feels that honey-like certainty settle in him again. He wants this—coming home to Donghyuck, Donghyuck coming home to him—forever.

“Mark? Where are you?”

“In the bedroom, babe!”

“You should have seen it,” Donghyuck is laughing, pushing the bedroom door open, “Renjun did ‘Corner of the Sky’ and his voice—Oh. Oh, Mark.”

Mark gives a tentative smile. “His voice what?”

“It cracked so bad. Oh, _Mark_ ,” Donghyuck whispers. He spins slow on his heel, letting his gaze wander—glances over the special projector scattering constellations across the walls and ceiling, over the blanket fort Mark’s erected with endearing clumsiness, over the careful selection of taro buns and Pepero sticks—and lands at last on Mark’s face, which is brighter than any of it.

“It’s closing night,” Mark says, tugging self-consciously at the hem of the bedsheet, “and I thought I’d do something—”

The distance between them dissolves as Donghyuck flings himself into the blanket fort, and they kiss and kiss and kiss until their lips are buzzing like honeybees. Everything is saccharine until suddenly Donghyuck’s chest hitches with something _wrong_ , and the harsh salt of his sorrow drips into Mark’s mouth.

Mark jerks back in alarm. “Oh no, babe, what’s wrong?”

Donghyuck shoves his face into a pillow so that his voice comes out muffled and watery. “Nothing. Your face is wrong.”

“You’re crying, Duckie.”

“Shut up! Don’t call me Duckie!”

“Do you not like it when—”

“No!” Donghyuck wails, wrenching his face from the pillow. His cheeks are puffy and his eyeliner is smudged and Mark adores him to death. “I love it when you call me Duckie, I hate you so much, go _away_ Mark Lee I’m sad.”

“Sweetheart… Hyuck-ah,” Mark amends, retracting the pet name after Donghyuck scowls. The stars sputter and vanish as he flicks off the projector, turning on a lamp instead. “I know you’re just upset and lashing out, but if you really want me to go away, I will. I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable, baby.”

“Don’t leave me, jerkface.”

“I won’t,” Mark says, and it comes out way too earnest, so the air feels singed and brittle like burnt caramel.

Donghyuck doesn’t say anything, though, just nods jerkily. He curls into himself and cries for a moment longer, and Mark waits for the stilted heaves of his chest to stop, because he’ll always wait for Donghyuck. “Do you—do you remember when you went back to Canada for the summer?” Donghyuck whispers at last.  A solitary tear rolls down his cheek.

“In middle school?” Mark asks, and sweeps it away with the pad of his thumb. “I remember you cried and told me you hated me then, too.”

“Yeah, but do you remember…” Donghyuck almost buries his head again, but Mark stops him with a hand cupped under his chin. “It’s stupid.”

“Nothing you say is stupid.”

“I mean, obviously, I’m a genius, I just… can you turn around?” Donghyuck blurts. “Face the wall. I need to tell you something, and I can’t do it while you’re looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“With your dumb I’m-in-love-with-you face.”

“I am in love with you. It’s just my face,” Mark grumbles, but complies anyway. He stares dutifully at the white plaster greeting him, tracing the cracks in the wall with his eyes as Donghyuck speaks.

“When you were packing for Canada, back then,” Donghyuck begins, his voice soft but steady, “you said that nothing was going to change between us. Ever. But things have changed, right? When we got boba with Mina and Yewon and you asked me if it was a date, I realized that—even the same things we used to do are different now. I knew you were lying when you told me you wouldn’t change anything in our relationship. You want different things. And it’s not like I don’t want that stuff too, but it scares me because I haven’t done this before, and now—now I have a real chance of losing you. I avoided going out or doing anything _couple-y_ because I didn’t want you to be disappointed when you realized I can’t be what you want because I suck at romance. And other… you know.”

“Donghyuck-ah—”

“Don’t turn around!” Donghyuck squeaks. “God, this is so embarrassing.”

“Okay,” Mark tells the wall. “But you know, I haven’t done this before either.”

“What are you talking about? You’ve had, like, eight million boyfriends and girlfriends.”

Mark runs his finger over the frayed edge of the Michael Jackson poster on the wall and wonders how Donghyuck can sit there and compare raindrops to oceans. “I’ve had four,” he corrects gently, still addressing the wall. “And it doesn’t matter anyway, because none of them were the boy I’ve been in love with since I was thirteen years old. So this is all new to me too. Babe, can I please turn around?”

“I suppose you may,” Donghyuck says, as magnanimously as he can with a stuffy nose and scratchy throat.

Mark turns, taking a moment to drink in Donghyuck’s tearful features in the low light. It always catches him off guard, how viscerally it pains him to see Donghyuck upset. Like a punch to the gut.

“I’m sorry,” Donghyuck mumbles, and rushes to continue before Mark can cut him off. “I knew what all the hints meant. I just—I freaked out. I really do appreciate all of this.” He gestures vaguely around the room, indicating Mark’s misfired grand gesture. “But it brought up those feelings.”

“Is this why you’ve been so anxious about lately?” Mark asks, and his heart plummets into his stomach when Donghyuck nods. “Puppy…”

“I know, it’s dumb—”

“It’s not dumb. Stop saying that.” Mark presses closer, careful not to crowd Donghyuck or touch him before he’s comfortable. “I’m the idiot, baby. Should have been telling you every day that you never have to worry about not being what I want, because I just want you.”

“So _greasy_ , hyung,” Donghyuck groans, flushes that dusty rose color and buries his face in his hands.

“I mean it. I love you.” Warmth blossoms in Mark’s chest when Donghyuck reaches out and silently intertwines their hands. “I might be into that cheesy romantic stuff, but I don’t want to do anything that you don’t. Just being together already makes me so happy. And as for the sex thing—”

“Mark!” Donghyuck cries, the fingers of his free hand curling into claws with the force of his cringing—a habit he picked up from Mark, even if he denies it. Mark can’t help but chuckle. Flirty and affectionate as he is, Donghyuck gets adorably scandalized when the tables are turned.

“We talked about it, remember? Sex is so far from being the most important thing to me in this relationship. I really don’t mind if we never do it. You have to believe me, sweetheart,” Mark murmurs, tracing circles on the back of Donghyuck’s hand with his thumb.

“I believe you,” Donghyuck says. “I want to try the romantic stuff. And the—the other thing. Eventually. Just—be patient?”

“Of course. I’m sorry I wasn’t before, Duckie.”

“It’s okay,” Donghyuck says. “It’s not your fault you’re such a big sap.” He gives a coy smile, and for a blinding moment he’s his usual self again. “Besides, I am too.”

“Really?” Mark returns the smile, idly playing with Donghyuck’s fingers. “What kinds of sappy things do you like?”

“Well, I always thought it would be nice to go on a scenic drive, like at sunset, up on a hill? And look out over the city and—”

“—then I  play a K.Will song on my car stereo and we get out and slow dance on the side of the street and kiss beneath the stars?” Mark finishes in a rush.

Donghyuck stares for a long, incredulous moment before snorting and shaking his head. “In my head, it was an IU song,” he says. “But yours sounds good too, Mark Lee.”

“I think you’re my soulmate.”

“I think you’re gross.”

“Babe…”

“Fine,” Donghyuck laughs, “you’re my gross soulmate, and as soon as one of us gets a fucking driver’s license we’ll go on the cheesiest date in human history.”

“It’s a date, Hyuckie.”

Donghyuck insists on cuddling, then, on turning the stars back on and eating the snacks Mark prepared, spilling assurances that he’s not just asking out of pity. Mark did the research to find a projector that was astronomically accurate, and he listens attentively as Donghyuck points out constellations, hand-feeding him Pepero sticks while he speaks.

“From now on,” Mark says at a lapse in the conversation, giving Donghyuck’s waist a gentle squeeze, “if I’m being dumb, just tell me. If you’re worried about something, or you want anything, tell me and I'll do my best to help you, okay? And I’ll do the same.”

“Okay, Mark Lee,” Donghyuck agrees. His eyelids, still swollen from all the waterworks, are starting to flutter shut. He raises a finger, pointed sleepily toward a particular patch of ceiling. “That one’s Leo. It’s you.”

“It’s me?”

“Mark. I literally have you saved in my phone as _lion heart_.”

“Oh! Oh, right. That’s my, like, star sign, right?” Mark giggles sheepishly under his boyfriend’s withering gaze. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, babe, you know I’m not really into the whole astrology thing.”

“Can’t believe I’m dating a cultureless heathen,” Donghyuck sighs, then belies his words a moment later when he flops back and tucks himself under Mark’s arm. He tilts his head back to look at him upside-down, endearing and puppy-like. “I love you, Mark.”

It’s the first time he’s said it. Mark blinks rapidly, half-choking on honey and _certainty certainty certainty_ , musters the wits to open his mouth and return the sentiment—

—and finds that Donghyuck’s already dozed off in the midst of his boyfriend’s short circuiting. With a fond smile, Mark gets up to take his shoes off for him.

 

☆

 

On the last day of the spring semester, Mark and Donghyuck get lost in the mountains.

“Are you _sure_ you passed your driver’s test?” Donghyuck asks, squinting dubiously at the navigation on the cell phone mounted to the dashboard of Mark’s new (AKA very old, but new to them) car.

“Shut up,” Mark replies, and earns a pinch in the ear for his troubles.

They make it eventually, but by the time they tumble out of the car onto a rest stop looking over Seoul, sunset has come and gone. It’s also mercilessly windy, so their hair flies over their eyes and they can barely hear IU over the deafening roar of rushing air. They cling to each other for warmth in lieu of slow dancing, then quickly give up and pile back into the car. Donghyuck’s cheeks are flushed like roses with wind and laughter, and Mark wants to kiss him, so he does.

“You’re it for me, you know that?” he murmurs against the mole on Donghyuck’s collarbone. It’s his latest favorite kissing spot. “I’d never leave you, not unless you wanted me to.”

“Well,” Donghyuck says, his voice thick in a way neither of them will mention, “I’ll never want you to. So I guess we both got lucky.”

“Yeah, we did.” Mark kisses his boyfriend once more for good measure, then leans forward to turn the volume on the stereo up. The audio quality crackles with the gentleness of a fireplace, and Donghyuck absentmindedly sings along to lyrics about fireflies and dreams and love. They’re not directly under the stars, but they can see them through the window, and everything is perfect.

They really are lucky.

**Author's Note:**

> -the boys go to seoul national university; duckie is majoring in voice and mark is double majoring in music theory and composition  
> -yewon is oh my girl's arin. she and mina were both in mark's graduating class at SOPA so i thought it would be cute! they probably don't know each other irl tho rip  
> -the IU song is "through the night"  
> -my first nct fic/kpop fic, so comments and kudos are deeply appreciated!  
> -mark lee loves lee donghyuck to the ends of the earth and so do i. thank you for reading <3


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